


Easy A

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Jemma asks once the two women are seated in her car.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“One a scale from one to ten, how bad is it to have sex with your TA?” Skye asks by way of answering.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>In which Skye starts a new semester, only to realize her one night stand from last night is actually her TA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy A

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/gifts).



Skye is woken by the sound of her phone ringing. She rolls over to grab it off her desk, but her hand just arcs through the air before smacking down against the carpet.

There is no carpet in her bedroom, just a small area rug that is not within arm’s reach of her bed.

She’s not in her bed. She opens her eyes and takes stock of her surroundings. She’s not in her room, either.

Or her clothes.

That’s when her memories of last night surge back into her sleep-addled brain. She was at the bar with Jemma, Raina, and Fitz. And there was a guy with an accent, her usual downfall.

That guy is probably responsible for the light snoring coming from the mount of blankets next to her.

She pulls herself out of bed (more accurately, she rolls off the mattress, which lies directly on the floor) and searches for her phone, hoping to get to it without waking her companion up. It’s in her bag, near the bedroom door.

Jemma’s name lights up the screen.

“Hey,” Skye answers as she slips out the bedroom door into the living room. It doesn’t look like there are any other bedrooms in the apartment, so she doesn’t have to worry about being interrupted.

“You have class in thirty minutes,” Jemma says, skipping the pleasantries, “nad I assume you don’t want to miss the first day of classes.” She is correct. “So if you tell me where you are I’ll pick you up.”

“Will you also bring me breakfast?” Skye asks. It’s hard to do school on an empty stomach.

“And a change of clothes.”

Jemma is the best friend ever.

“Okay, I’ll text you the address,” Skye promises and hangs up.

Now she just has to figure out where the hell she is. She really should have paid better attention on the drive over last night. Fortunately, a quick peek out of the window tell her she’s in the London Towne apartment complex, which is bit on the nose considering the guy from last night’s British accent.

She sends a text to Jemma and returns to the bedroom to grab her stuff.

“Good morning, the guy from last night (she really wishes she could remember his name, but she’s always been much better with faces) greets her. The sleepiness in his voice makes it even sexier. If she didn’t have anywhere to be, she wouldn’t mind staying for round two.

He looks her up and down.

That’s when she remembers she’s still naked.

“Can I make you breakfast,” he offers as Skye throws on the nearest item of clothing (a black t-shirt, presumably his) and searches for the stuff that actually belongs to her.

“No thanks,” she declines. “I have class in a half hour, so I’m kind of in a rush.”

She finds her underwear, bra, and jeans with no problem, but her shirt seems to have disappeared into thin air. Did she take it off before they got into the bedroom?

“If you give me a minute to get dressed, I can drive you,” he offers, reaching under the covers and pulling out Skye’s black button-down. She thinks he might sound a little hurt by her refusal of breakfast.

“Actually, I’ve got a friend picking me up,” Skye says and, right on cue, her phone rings again. “That’s her actually.”

“Suit yourself,” the guy shrugs and tosses Skye her shirt. She yanks his t-shirt over her head and slides her own over her shoulders before grabbing her bag, not bothering to do up the buttons. As she reaches for the bedroom door, she hears the sound of his head sinking back against the pillows.

She wishes she could sneak in a bit more sleep before class, like he clearly is. Hopefully Jemma brought coffee, too.

She also wishes she’d remembered to ask his name.

Thanks to Jemma, who brought coffee, a croissant, a new shirt, and flat boots, Skye makes it to her first class with five minutes to spare. Dr. May’s Latin 401 syllabus looks pretty much the same as 302’s did last semester, only subbing in “assorted poets” for Vergil.

She grabs lunch at the Mexican place in the Student Union before heading back to the Classics department for Greek Archaeology. She wishes she had time to dash back to her apartment for a shower (or at least to brush her teeth), but she carefully planned her schedule to get so could get all her classes over with as quickly as possible. Her Tuesday-Thursday schedule is even more packed, and spread out all over the campus. And besides, she doesn’t have her car today.

She makes it back with fifteen minutes until class starts, but the room is still mostly empty when she takes the seat next to Raina. Greek Archaeology is supposed to be a popular class, especially with non-majors, so even though the professor is new this year, it should fill up. There will probably be a lot of latecomers who have no idea where the Classics department is.

“You came home late last night,” Raina teases, once Skye has pulled out her pen and asked to borrow a piece of paper.

Actually, Skye didn’t come home at all, and Raina knows that.

Skye rolls her eyes, “You saw me leave the bar.”

“And I expected you home an hour and a half later, utterly disappointed and unfulfilled by… whoever,” Riana looks at Skye smugly.

“You don’t know his name either?” Skye is disappointed. He was hot, the sex was good; she wouldn’t have minded a regular hookup.

“Like I was paying attention,” Raina says in her usual high and mighty way.

That used to bother Skye, back when they were freshmen and she shared a triple dorm room with Rain and Jemma. At this point she’s used to it, maybe even fond of it.

“Yes, yes, I know. You’re better than everyone else and when you deign to grace us mere mortals with your presence we shouldn’t expect you to remember mundane details like the name of the guy I went home with,” Skye says the last part a little loudly and the guy sitting in the back corner of the room glares at them.

She doesn’t care about him enough to be embarrassed, she’s just glad the professor isn’t here yet.

“So onto topics you might actually give a shit about,” Skye changes the subject, “what’s the word on the new professor.”

Raina’s practiced disinterest drops for a moment and Skye knows she’s been waiting to be asked about this.

“Doctor Isabelle Hartley. She digs in Cyprus, was a professor at some Canadian university. Officially, she took the jog here to be closer to her family, and for a better shot at tenure, but I have it on good authority that she left after her affair with another professor went sour,” Raina is downright gleeful as she recounts the information. For all that she pretends not to care about other people, Raina certainly pays attention to what happens in their lives.

Skye ignores the gossip and focuses on the important stuff, “Cyprus? Where in Cyprus?”

Raina shrugs, “Some military base on the Greek side.”

“Does she take students to dig?” Skye really wouldn’t mind getting out of town this summer, even if it’ll cost her an arm and a leg.

“Not undergrads,” Raina frowns in something approximating sympathy.

More students file in as they chat, until the room is three-quarters full.

With three minutes until class starts, a tall woman who Skye assumes is Dr. Hartley enters the room. She’s dressed casually, in jeans and an army green shirt. Skye has noticed that archaeologists tend not to dress up for class as much as her language and history professors do.

She quietly sets a few books out on the desk in front of the room before sticking her head out the door and flagging someone down.

A few seconds later she’s joined by a TA carrying a large pile of what Skye assumes are class syllabi. At first she only notices the basics; he’s a bit shorter than Dr. Hartley, has a beard, and is wearing black jeans and a gray henley.

Then he speaks.

“Your PowerPoint,” he says in a familiar British accent as he hands the professor a flashdrive.

Skye’s head snaps up to get a better look. It’s the guy from last night.

Shit.

Skye turns to Raina to point him out, but she’s clearly already noticed. Raina has a hand pressed to her mouth in surprise. Skye thinks she’s trying to hold back laughter.

Skye stares in silences as Dr. Hartley and the TA set up the projector.

She really did not see this one coming. She wonders if there are rules against this. It’s got to be a conflict of interest, sleeping with the guy who grades your exams.

Whatever, she vows not to let it drive her crazy. It only happened once. And now that she knows who is, she won’t be pressing for a repeat performance.

At least she’ll be learning his name now.

Skye half listens as Dr. Hartley introduces herself and her graduate assistant Lance Hunter (that name does sound vaguely familiar to Skye) and he doesn’t even notice her presence until he’s passing out the syllabi.

He’s standing at the front of her column of desks (for once Skye’s glad that Raina’s the type who insists that in the second to last row from the back is casual, but not slacker-like), counting the number of occupied seats. When they make eye contact, Skye’s not really sure what to do. Should she smile? Wink suggestively (okay probably not)? Pretend not to recognize him? 

She’s pretty sure she ends up giving him a deer in the headlights kind of look.

His mouth falls open a little bit and he stops counting the packets as he blushes furiously.

He definitely remembers her, then. At least she doesn’t have to suffer the indignity of him not recognizing her.

He recovers quickly, although to Skye it looks like he hands the papers over a little more roughly than he had before. Then he moves on to the next row.

He doesn’t look at her for the rest of class; she knows because she can’t take her eyes off of him. Luckily, Dr. Hartley’s just going over the syllabus (three exams and a short essay) and giving an overview of Greek History. It’s nothing she has to pay much attention to.

When the professor dismisses the class early, Lance busies himself with the projector and Skye heads quickly out of the room. Jemma’s got her own TA position this semester, for a lab that’s meeting today, so Skye can either wait for her to finish or try and bum a ride home with Fitz.

Raina follows Skye as she heads to the science building, despite the fact that Skye knows she has Greek Drama staring in twenty minutes.

“He didn't, like, start reciting Catullus in the middle of sex, did he?” Raina asks.

He’s actually a pretty lame remark for her.

“Skye rolls her eyes, “He’s a Greek archaeologist, Raina. I don’t know how familiar he is with Roman poets.”

“Fine, he didn’t mention a love for Minoan frescoes as he came, did he?” Raina amends. “Would that be more accurate?”

Skye just glares at her.

“I’m just saying,” Raina holds her hands up in innocence, “it would have been a hint.”

Skye tries to remember if there were any clues in his apartment that she didn’t pick up on. But really, it was pretty empty, just a mattress, empty bookcase and a lot of boxes.

He probably hadn’t unpacked yet. That’s what Skye’s apartment looked like when she first moved in last year.

“Not a single clue,” she replies.

Raina shrugs and checks her watch before excusing herself to head back the way she came.

Skye continues her way across campus to the science buildings. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are her light days, with only two classes. On Thursdays she takes three and on Tuesdays four.

When she finds the room Jemma’s teaching in, it looks like her friend is still reviewing lab safety with her students. Fortunately, Fitz is waiting on a bench outside the classroom.

“I was going to wait for Jemma, but if you need a ride home, I can take you now,” Fitz offers.

Skye shakes her head. “No thanks. I have news for her.”

“Good news,” he asks. “Or bad news?”

“Just news,” Skye knows better than to try and discuss her sex-life with Fitz. She’s done it before, and he just huffs and sighs and looks pained. Of course he never feels similarly uncomfortable about discussing his sex life with her.

Which is why she usually takes every opportunity to over-share with him. But today she needs sympathy and advice not… whatever it is that Fitz has to offer. So she’ll save it for Jemma.

They wait together in the hallways for Jemma to finish class and, despite the thoughts swirling in her head, Skye dozes off on Fitz’s shoulder. It’s been a busy twenty-four hours.

Once Jemma dismisses her class, they wait a few minutes for her to clean up before heading out of the building. Fitz and Jemma share concerned looks when the normally chatty Skye just stares silently into space as they walk to towards their cars.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Jemma asks once the two women are seated in her car.

“One a scale from one to ten, how bad is it to have sex with your TA?” Skye asks by way of answering.

Jemma smiles, “You want to have sex with your TA?” She backs out of her parking space.

“I already did?” Skye squeaks.

Jemma’s smile turns into a chuckle and Skye feels significantly better knowing that Jemma isn’t lecturing her about making good choices. She’s a good friend, but she’s still a genius who has her moments of condescension.

“Is this the guy from last night?” Jemma asks.

“Lance Hunter,” Skye confirmed. Even his name is sexy.

“Are you going to do it again?”

Skye takes a moment to consider it. This morning she was looking forward the possibility of a second round, but she also doesn’t want anyone to question the validity of her academic career. Her grades are the result of her brain and hard work, not her vagina.

Jemma starts talking again in Skye’s silence, “You’re thinking about his accent, aren’t you?” she guesses. “I swear you’ll jump into bed with anything with a pulse and a vaguely foreign sounding accent.”

Skye hadn’t been thinking about that, but now she definitely is.

“Hey, I haven’t jumped you or Fitz,” she protests.

“You certainly tried,” Jemma smirks.

Skye blushes, “That was one time, and I was pretty drunk.”

Jemma rolls her eyes, “It was at least three times and I now know you can hold your liquor much better than you let on.”

“Whatever,” Skye dismissed Jemma’s comments, “it was three years ago and you missed out. I am no longer down to fuck you. I know it may be hard to handle, but I’ve moved on. We can only ever be friends. Feel free to cry about it. But I’ve still never done anything to Fitz.”

They’ve had this conversation multiple times.

“Much to his chagrin.”

Ah yes, that was an interesting period of time. Fitz’s little crush on her during their first semester was adorable, but she’s glad it faded quickly.

“We’re getting off topic,” Skye reminds Jemma.

“Right,” Jemma returns to their previous topic of conversation. “As I was saying, what’s done is done. What really matters is whether you want to do it again. And of course, whether he wants to too.”

“I mean the sex was pretty great,” Skye says. “And did you see his arms? I could build a shrine to them.”

Jemma snorts at the mental image.

“But I don’t think it matters,” Skye continues. “As soon as he recognized me, he stopped making eye contact.”

“Maybe he was too awed by your sexual prowess,” Jemma jokes.

“That must be it,” Skye taps her hand against the side of her head like she’s just realized something important. “It’s the only reasonable explanation.”

“Seriously though, if you’re going to do it again maybe go about it quietly,” Jemma advises her.

Skye knows what her friend means, but she can’t resist the opportunity to say, “I can’t help it if I’m a screamer.”

Jemma laughs so hard Skye’s almost worried that she might lose control of the car.

“Well if you’re going to be so loud,” Jemma says once she’s composed herself,” then I’d appreciate it if you did it at his place. You know I prefer to study in quiet.”

That makes Skye crack up.

\--  
Lance strategically avoids Skye for two weeks, or at least she thinks that’s what he’s going. He refuses to so much look at her during class and always finds something to keep him busy when she tries to corner him after class. It’s infuriating.

Part of her knows she should just leave it alone. He’s made it clear where he stands.

But her ego’s a little bruised. She doesn’t expect every guy she meets to fall desperately in love with her, but she knows he was totally into her the morning after they slept together. And now he’s ice cold.

It sucks.

She’s complained about it to the point that each of her roommates is sick of hearing about Lance Hunter. Fitz will stomp out of the room the second his name is mentioned.

She should shut up, but she can’t.

She’s totally losing it.

And that’s what she blames when she walks into class one morning and doesn’t find it suspicious that Raina is sitting in the second row.

“I lost a contact and left my glasses at home,” Raina tells her when Skye asks what’s going on with the seat change.

She didn’t even know Raina needed contacts, and they share a bathroom.

It doesn’t click into place until Lance enters the room, glares at her, and drops in notebook on the desk in front of her.

Raina doesn’t even play innocent.

“Any interesting sexual conquests lately?” Raina asks after Lance turns on the projector and returns to his seat.

Skye is going to murder her.

Lance’s shoulders tense up and the back of his neck reddens. Skye considers just ignoring her friend’s question, but she knows that would just make her bolder.

“No, how about you?” she asks, hoping to shift the conversation away from herself. Of course, it’s not that easy.

“No, but then again I’m a little harder to please. You like anything with an accent.”

Skye stares down at her desk, vividly picturing all the terrible things she wants to do to her roommate.

Lance practically runs out the door. Even Dr. Hartley seems perplexed by his sudden exit. That’s going to be hard to explain.

Skye is going to have strong words (and maybe I few threats of bodily harm) with Raina when they get home.

\--

“Alright, as whole everyone did very well on the exam so I’m not going to review it in class. If you’d like to go over any questions feel free to stop by mine or Hunter’s office hours,” Dr. Hartley announces before passing back their graded exams.

Skye’s attention may slip frequently during class, but thanks to a long study session Raina and a small amount of extra credit, she has a perfect score.

She doesn’t need to clarify any questions, but it does occur to her that office hours would be the perfect opportunity to clear the air with Lance. Maybe then she’ll be able to concentrate well enough that study sessions with Raina won’t be necessary.

He looks less than pleased to see her at the door to the graduate student offices. He looks around the room, but everyone else is either in class, at lunch, or elsewhere.

“I assume you’re not here to talk about grades,” he eventually lets her into the office.

“Oh, you’re willing to make eye contact with me now, that’s a big step,” she says.

It’s a bit childish, but her frustrations have been building up for four weeks now.

“I see I’ve assumed correctly,” he perches himself on the corner of what she assumes is his desk.

“Look, we had sex. No big deal,” Skye cuts to the chase. “And I get that it’s awkward since you’re my TA and all and neither one of us knew that going into things, but I’d really appreciate it I could just go to class without being bombarded by icy waves of hostility.”

The phrase “icy waves of hostility” is definitely her bruised ego talking, but he’s too busy double checking to make sure no one’s around to overhear her mentioning their sleeping together to pick up on it.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he tells her sincerely, although he still looks desperate to get rid of her before anyone returns. “I will try to be less awkward about it. Izzy’s actually commented on my odd behavior this semester.”

It takes her a moment to realize that the Izzy he’d referring to is Dr. Hartley.

“Yeah, well you did run out of the room before class started that one time,” she notes.

He laughs, and Skye can feel the tension in the room dissipate.

“That’s only because she couldn’t hear what you two girls were talking about.”

Skye cringes at the memory, “Yeah, I should have realized something was up when Raina wanted to move seats. I swear I didn’t know that was going to happen.” She pauses. “Dr. Hartley doesn’t know about what happened between us, does she?”

She really hopes not. That’s just an uncomfortable thing for your professor to know about, and all of this is uncomfortable enough as it is.

Lance shakes his head, “Izzy and I are pretty close, but we decided a while back not to talk about our sex lives with each other anymore.”

Skye is suddenly reminded of the gossip Raina told her about why Dr. Hartley left her old job.

“Good,” she tells him,” I just want to put this behind us.”

There’s an awkward pause after she says this and his eyes trail down her body in the same appreciative way that they did the morning after they had sex. She feels her body heat up all over. He gulps.

At least she’s fully dressed this time.

She gives him a similar appraising look, even though she knows she shouldn’t. They just finished talking about how they were going to stop being so fucking awkward. But she can’t help herself, and he isn’t even speaking.

She should leave.

“I’m gonna go now,” Skye says, pointing to the exit and studiously avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah” he tells her, then adds, “I’ll see you Friday… in class.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we had this talk.”

It takes her a moment to get her legs to work, but she does make it out the door eventually.

“That was so fucking weird,” she murmurs to herself before heading out. But at least they’ve cleared the air. Hopefully things will be more pleasant now, and she can actually get some learning done. 

\--

“Skye,” Lance greets her politely when she enters class that Friday.

She smiles, and forces her eyes up to his face, away from his pecs in the tight gray t-shirt he’s wearing. It’s a struggle.

She can feel his eyes follow her as she takes a seat next to Raina, but when she turns around he’s busy fiddling with the projector, as usual.

“He was totally staring at your ass,” Raina tells her quietly.

Skye’s not entirely sure how she feels about that. On one hand, it’s way better than his previous hostility and avoidance, but on the other hand, it’s definitely not the normal she’d been hoping for after their talk.

Maybe Raina’s just screwing with her.

“Before we begin, I want to remind everyone not to miss class on Monday,” Dr. Hartley says before starting her lecture. “We’ll be having an excellent guest lecture, John Thompson, who Hunter and I have both dug with previously.”

From her angle, Skye can see that Lance is confused.

“I thought Idaho was lecturing on Monday?’ he says.

What kind of name is Idaho? Who would do that to their child?

“He is,” Dr. Hartley confirms.

“But you said—oh. Nevermind,” Lance ducks his head in embarrassment. “I guess I got so used to calling him Idaho that I forgot he had a real name.”

Skye snorts. She’s never heard someone working on their PhD sound so ridiculous. At least he’s still nice to look at.

Not that she’s done much looking at him. No.

“Yes, and I’m sure he really appreciates you telling a class full of undergrads he has to lecture to about the nickname you gave him,” Dr. Hartley says.

Lance shrugs helplessly, “You use it too.”

\--

The guest lecture on the Hero of Lefkandi goes well, and Skye even manages to pay attention to most of it (at one point Lance puts on a pair of glasses and Skye’s pretty sure even Raina was checking him out). Still, Skye’s a little insulted that Lance stopped her in the hallway beforehand to ask her not to bring up the whole Idaho nickname thing.

She wasn’t going to.

So a couple of weeks later, when she finds Lance waiting outside the classroom before a second guest lecture on epigraphy by a Dr. Barbara Morse, she assumes he has a similar warning.

“What?” she asks, not pleasantly. She’s not in the mood to be insulted again.

He jumps a little, despite the fact that she was standing right in front of him before she spoke.

“Shouldn’t you be insid?” she speaks again, nodding towards the classroom door.

“I will,” he tells her. “I’m just waiting.” He sounds weird, really distracted.

“For what?”

“For Bobbi to start lecturing,” he tells her.

“Bobbi? Is Dr. Morse another one of your dig pals?” Skye asks. “That’s a much better nickname than Idaho.”

“She’s my ex,” Lance explains.

“Your ex-girlfriend is our guest lecturer and you’re standing out here because you’re scared to see her? That must have been one bad breakup,” Skye doesn’t mean to tease him, but she just can’t help it.

Lance sighs deeply, “Ex-wife.”

“You were married?” Skye hisses.

She’s not sure why that feels like such a big deal to her, but it does. Maybe because he can’t possibly be that much older than her, six or seven year maximum, and she’s not even sure she wants a committed relationship anytime soon. She can’t imagine being married (and divorced) just a few years from not.

“We were young, we were stupid, we didn’t even make it a year,” he sounds annoyed that he has to explain this to her.

“And now you’re hiding in the hallway so you don’t have to see her?”

Now he looks really annoyed, “You wouldn’t get it.”

That pisses Skye off. Maybe she doesn’t understand what would make two people get married that young, but she’s pretty familiar with his avoidance tactics. Clearly she’s not the first person he’s practiced them on.

“Well you’re gonna have to go in there sometimes,” she spits out before storming off to her desk.

Raina raises an eyebrow when lance enters the room and hides in the back row of desks, right behind Skye. Skye can’t wait to tell her the whole story.

Lance spends the class sighing at snorting at Bobbi’s lecture. It’s silly and childish and part of Skye wants to turn around and tell him so. Loudly. But that would be making a scene.

Dr. Hartley is glaring at him, though, and Skye’s pretty sure that means he’s going to get an earful.

At one point, when Bobbi starts talking about her graduate thesis work, Lance actually mutters something about her being “full of herself.” She’s also pretty sure she hears him throw the term “she-devil” around. Skye turns around in her seat to glare at him.

When she turns back to the front of the room, she notices Bobbi rolling her eyes in Lance’s direction. She can probably guess exactly what he’s saying about her.

As far as she can tell, though, all of Lance’s bitterness is unwarranted. Dr. Morse’s lecture is informative and interesting, and she’s pretty funny.

“Finally,” Lance mutters when the lecture is over.

Skye’s ready to snap at him. Instead she gathers her things and tells Raina, “I’m just going to ask Dr. Morse a few questions. That was a great lecture.”

She makes sure she says it loud enough for Lance to hear.

Then she walks to the front of the room and asks Dr. Morse ever last question she can think of about Nestor’s Cup and Dipylon Inscription. When she runs out of things to ask, she turns the conversation to Bobbi’s experience digging with Dr. Hartley. She makes no mention of Lance Hunter. After a good twenty minutes of conversation she thanks Bobbi for the wonderful lecture and excuses herself.

Looking over her shoulder as she leaves, Skye spots Lance looking at her incredulously.

It feels great.

\--

Skye has barely made a dent in her first drink of the night when Raina coos, “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Three sets of head turn in the direction she’s facing. It’s Lance Hunter, accompanied by one of the other Classics grad students, Sunil Bakshi.

“Absolutely not,” Fitz warns Skye. “We’re here to celebrate our acceptances to graduate school—“

“And our decision to avoid the real world for another two to ten years,” Jemma interjects.

“not for you to get laid. Tonight is about friendship,” Fitz finishes.

“And alcohol,” Raina adds before tipping back the last of her drink.

“If I can’t flirt with any cute pre-med students, you can’t have sex with your TA,” Jemma says, sounding a little disappointed by Fitz’s rules for the night.

“Actually, there are a number of more important reasons why she can’t have sex with her TA,” Fitz comments.

Skye scoffs, “I already told you, there’s not going on. We’re not even friends.”

“No, they just spent fifty minutes three times a week eye-fucking the hell out each other,” Raina comments.

“Either way, he’s coming over here,” Fitz says drily.

Skye lifts her head and they all watch his approach. If he’s at all intimidated by Fitz’s glare, Jemma’s appraisal, or Raina’s smug amusement, he doesn’t show it. She has to give him props for that. Her friends can be a scary bunch.

“Skye,” he greets her and puts her beer down on the table to next to her. “Raina.”

Raina inclines her head in acknowledgment as Skye introduces Lance to Fitz and Jemma.

“Skye has told us absolutely nothing about you or the sex you two had at the beginning of the semester,” Fitz deadpans. Jemma just smiles.

“Good to know,” Lance sounds nervous now.

“Well I’m going to get a drink,” Fitz excuses himself curtly, muttering under his breath about “sexual tension so thick you can cut it with a knife.”

“I’m going to say hello to Trip,” Jemma gets up from the table, clearly excited by the prospec.

Raina just stares at the two of them for a long minute before saying, “Fine, I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Your friends seem nice,” Lance lies once Raina is out of earshot.

Skye laughs, “Fitz is usually a little friendlier than that. We’re supposed to be celebrating?”

Lance raises an eyebrow in question, “Celebrating what?”

“We all got into grad school. Not the same one, obviously, we’re different majors. They’re headed all over the country; I’m staying here.”

She thinks Lance might smile just the tiniest bit at that, “I guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you next year, since we’ll be in the same program.”

Skye shakes her head, “I’m going for computer science. I’m a double major, actually.”

Lance nods in acknowledgment and the silence that follows is long and awkward. Skye’s pretty sure she can detect the sexual tension Fitz mentioned earlier. Either that or she just wants there to be sexual tension. It would make her feel better about her strong desire to break their uncomfortable silence with a kiss. Or a hand down his pants, both ideas cross her mind.

She doesn’t though.

The both reach for their drinks at the same time, for something to do while they don’t talk, and because Lance is still standing right next to Skye, their arms knock together.

“Sorry,” Lance apologizes, drawing his arm back like it burns.

“No problem,” Skye lifts her drink to her lips and takes a deep gulp.

At least it broke the silence.

“So have you finished your paper for Izzy yet?” Lance asks politely.

The fact that he’s resorted to small talk disappoints Skye.

“Everything but the works cited page.”

“You know, the semester’s almost over,” he says. It feels significant, especially due to the poor segue.

“Yeah.”

“In a few weeks you won’t be my student,” Lance tells her. “Do you want to go out for drinks then?”

Skye gulps.

“Or after winter break if you’re going home,” he says. When Skye doesn’t respond again he adds, “or not at all and we can forget I said anything.”

“I’ll be around,” she says quietly, “and I’d really like to, it’s just… are you TAing Greek Archaeology II?”

Painful realization dawns on his face, “You’re taking another semester of it? You’ll be my student again.”

He stares at her intently and Skye’s mind races to find a way around this problem. She could drop the class; she doesn’t need the second semester to graduate.

“Fuck it,” he growls and the next thing Skye knows his hands are tangled in her hair and his lips are pushed roughly against hers.

She pushes back, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to pull him closer.

“We probably shouldn’t do this,” she says when they pull back. Lance’s face drops, “here,” she finishes. “We probably shouldn’t do this in a bar full of students.”

He grins wickedly, “My place?”

“Your place,” she agrees, grabbing her bag off the chair and practically pulling him towards the door.

She doesn’t need Fitz interrupting things at her place just because he’s pissed she ruined his plans for the night.


End file.
